


The Argelius Incident

by ImmortalError



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Bless Chekov, Drunken Shenanigans, Fights, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, I awfully write with a russian accent, James T. Kirk Has Issues, M/M, Protective Leonard "Bones" McCoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-30
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2019-07-04 14:27:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15843165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImmortalError/pseuds/ImmortalError
Summary: It's Chekov's birthday and the Captain and his CMO have decided to take him out to a bar on the closest M Class planet. However, Kirk reverts to his old Starfleet Academy drinking habits and the night turns dangerous. Confessions are made and lips are split.





	The Argelius Incident

Chekov worked silently at his post. Reading stats, flicking switches, acting upon his knowledge and embracing the silence. His shift was about to end, and he was looking forward to the well-deserved rest that awaited him. He'd caught Sulu drifting off a few times, he said nothing but giggled to himself when Sulu jolted back awake and pretended nothing had happened.

 "So, it's quite close to your birthday, am I wrong?" Jumping at the sudden voice in his ear, Chekov looked up to Kirk's sudden questioning voice and bright blue mischievous eyes.  
"Zat eez correct sir." He nodded his head and Kirk inconveniently draped himself over the panel.  
"Well we are taking a few days stop on the closet class M planet which happens to be Argelius II. We have to deliver some supplies which most the crew will have to take care of. I on the other hand don't, so, why don't we celebrate your birthday?"  
"I don't see why you must state it is Minshara class, captain." Spock interrupted, walking past with precision. "Surely it is self-explanatory."  
"Shush Spock." Kirk looked over his shoulder at his first officer before looking back. "Chekov?"  
"Vhat vould ve do zhere?" He asked innocently,  
"Well your eighteen, right? How about we take you for your first proper drink?” Kirk saw Chekov's eyes light up at the proposition.  
"Aye sir! Zat eez a good idea! Only..." he trailed off. "Eighteen eezn't ze legal age."  
"It is in some places! Who cares, when you turn twenty-one this mission will be over. I want to celebrate my navigator's birthday!"  
"Vell. Vhy not?!" Chekov had accepted with the biggest smile. Kirk had tapped his hands over the panel before walking off.  
"It's a plan!" 

While he was about to get into bed, Kirk had poked his head in and informed him it would be the two of them and McCoy. Chekov was no longer sure about the company of the outing, being with both McCoy and Kirk was third-wheeling at its finest. Of course, they'd not even figured it out yet but to everyone else it was obvious. McCoy seldom smiled unless he was with Kirk and Kirk was his best around McCoy. But he had the time and nothing else to attend to so didn't back out. It would be fun, he hoped he'd get to know the chief medical officer better than he did. They rarely spoke but Chekov had an intense respect for McCoy. McCoy, who'd been with Kirk through his years in the academy and wasn't afraid to speak up when he was acting badly. McCoy who'd saved Kirk from death using only the blood of stranger who'd gotten him killed in the first place. McCoy hoped the same, the Russian wiz kid was a popular topic of conversation, his work during the destruction of Vulcan was admirable. McCoy had always seen past that, wondering if the people he couldn't save, including Spock's mother, had left a lasting impact.

McCoy knew Chekov had been drinking long before the legal age, mainly because of the liquor he stole to share with Kirk. Every time he returned to the locker there'd be a note that requested it was left where it was. A note which McCoy blatantly ignored. Chekov knew McCoy was the famous liquor thief, every time his bottle disappeared that night McCoy and Kirk smelt distinctively of fine liquor. They tried to do it off hours but tipsy, they were slightly louder, happier (at least McCoy was slightly happier- Kirk never seemed to get his smile off his face) and a little less concerned about each other's personal space. McCoy would have his arm slung around the smaller man's shoulders, smiling through jumbled sentences. Kirk would always laugh loudly and bury his face in McCoy's chest.

When they showed up at the beautiful bar made from some sort of rich, varnished wood blending in all shades on Argelius II; McCoy had recommended his favourite. Bourbon. They took it slow at first but before long drinks had become shots and shots had become wasted money and bad decisions. In a drunken blindness Kirk had tripped into McCoy with a full glass and spilt alcohol all down his shirt which, in a pointless effort, he slurred an apology and used the back of his arm to rub the patch vigorously in hope that 'static friction would dry it'. McCoy watched him with a dead expression, the liquor seeping through the fibres of his shirt and being massaged into his skin. In the end Kirk threw his arms up in defeat and muttered a discreet 'fuck it' before buying a replacement drink and complimenting McCoy on his winning of the non-existent wet t-shirt competition.

McCoy didn't abstain from drinking but simply took it lightly. He knew Kirk would be out of it quickly and would probably, irresponsibly, encourage Chekov to do the same. He was fully aware that he'd be driving the two back. Chekov was enjoying himself thoroughly, the Captain was as light-hearted and amusing as he'd expected in a non-professional situation. Their conversation was stopped to take a phone call, answering with not much more than a hello followed by a splutter of words.

"Hey Chekov! Happy birthday! Sorry I didn't call earlier." Chekov smiled at Sulu's voice on the other end of line.  
"Eet eez okay! You've been busy, I h--" Chekov stopped at hearing a sudden grunt. It was a familiar voice and as he turned, he gasped. Sulu began asking what was wrong, but Chekov was too surprised by what he saw. Kirk, fists by his face, standing headstrong, three against one. They were all twice his size and twice as drunk, if it was even physically possible. Kirk had blood smeared across his knuckles, streaming down his face, soaking into his shirt. Sulu was still yelling into the communication device.  
"I vill haff to call you back..." he trailed off, hanging the phone up and looking around desperately for McCoy whose seat was vacated. Chekov saw him emerge from where the bathrooms were located and, the second he saw the situation, bolted.  
"Jim!" He yelled, pushing through people to get to the already beaten captain. McCoy skidded to a halt, taking Kirk's panting face in his hands. From where Chekov sat hunched over in fear he could see black welling over Kirk's left eye, splits through his lip and blood gushing from his nose. Instincts kicked in, he was to protect his captain at all costs. He joined McCoy's side who was looking over every millimetre of his battered face.  
"Hey!" The biggest of the three men grabbed McCoy's shoulder and forced him to turn around slightly. "Who the hell do you thin--"  
"Would you shut it, dammit?! I'm tryin'a help my idiotic friend 'ere!" McCoy didn't even glance as him. The top of McCoy's head reached the man's shoulders.  
"Don't you interrupt me!! I'll smash your head into the ground!" Chekov flinched at his voice, it was nearly ear shattering.  
"Mkay..." McCoy mumbled, running his hand behind Kirk's ear to check for wounds.  
"I've already beat your friend half to death! Look at me!!"  
That's when McCoy looked at him. The man was surprised to see McCoy's hazel eyes fierce.  
"Bones... I got this..." Kirk spluttered from behind him, blood bubbling from his mouth. The man threw himself forward suddenly, swinging a punch which missed McCoy. Instead, the strength met the corner of Chekov's eye. The force knocked him backwards, shooting pain through his face.  
"Ë moë!!" Chekov exclaimed as he gripped his forehead with a hiss of pain, blood trickling between his fingertips.  
"Chekov!" McCoy cried, looking over his shoulder at Chekov who smiled.  
"I em okay, sir." Truth be told, he wasn't okay. He could feel pressure beneath the skin, it was already begging to swell. McCoy tilted his head as a sign of disbelief but looked back at the assailant.  
"I ask you refrain from such childish manners!" McCoy hissed through gritted teeth, angry. Refusing to look at him.  
  
The man stepped forward, grabbing McCoy by the collar and pulling him close to his face. Chekov had closed his eyes to clear the burning blood, but he'd heard another punch. When he opened his stinging eyes again, McCoy was bleeding from the lip and his eyes seemed a little more lost. McCoy's eyes went to the person beating him and, without warning, he threw a tightened fist out. It smashed into the man's jaw with a crack, sending shivers up Chekov's spine. He expected to have to jump into action, protect his captain against the attackers. But McCoy had knocked a few teeth loose, blood was pulsating from a split in his lip and he took a few steps backwards. He'd still out gun the three of them, but he'd not expected McCoy to be so confident about it.  
"I'll take him." The man to the left looked at his bleeding friend, hands tightened in fists.  
"Leave them. I've hit him and his friends enough..."  
McCoy ushered Kirk to a chair and insist he sat down. Kirk did just that, his eyes staring into empty space as if he wasn't even seeing through them.  
"Bones. Kirk mumbled.  
"Yes, Jim?" Kirk's shaking fingers took McCoy's hand in his own. Kirk's hand was bleeding and bruised, jolting uncontrollably.  
"Bones your hand… is it okay?" He began looking over McCoy's hand which was also bloody and bruised but not to the extent that Kirk's was.  
"It's fine you infant." McCoy snapped. "I took an oath as a pacifist ya' know?! I'm not supposed to cause harm, only treat it!"  
Kirk looked up to McCoy, his face filled with grief. Kirk raised his broken hands to McCoy's face, tears bubbling in his eyes. He looked solemn, running his thumb along McCoy's split lip.  
"This was my fault..." his words were interrupted with pauses, "I'm sorry Bones. I'm so, so sorry."  
"It's okay." Chekov could hear the pain in McCoy's voice. He'd heard that tone once before, not too long before. Kirk had died. He'd died from radiation poisoning, trying to save the ship. He succeeded at the cost of his own life. Since then Chekov had noticed small differences in McCoy behaviour. He stood closer to Kirk, looked at him more, even touched him more. He'd place a hand on Kirk's upper arms and Chekov could see him fighting the urge to dig his nails into his skin. To prove that he was real, alive, not some figment of his imagination. McCoy's heart hurt just to look at the captain and seeing him broken and bleeding again was painful. Chekov knew McCoy wasn't okay.  
"It's not Bones... It's not..." Kirk sniffed and rubbed the tears in his eyes. "I got you hurt..."  
McCoy took Kirk's face in his hands, suddenly overwhelmed.  
"I don't care that I'm hurt Jim!" He spoke, staring right into his eyes. "I care that your hurt..." McCoy trailed off, pressing his forehead against Kirk's. His hazel eyes closed as he spoke. 

"It feels like one of your drunken Academy days. When you used to come home at three in the morning with a bleeding face and cracked ribs. When you would ramble about why you beat up whoever you did. When you'd tell me, it was a good fight and all I could do was heal your wounds and wait in fear for the next time it would happen. The fear put off my study and my focus and my life because my damn best friend's blood was stained in my carpet. My beautiful, genius best friend's blood was in my sink at four in the morning. My best friend who I broke Star Fleet regulation for when he was on academic suspension and smuggled him onto a ship because I was too scared that he'd get drunk and fight an unfair fight and show up at home with no one to help." By this time McCoy was talking rushed and urgently, his voice strained. "My best friend who... died..." Chekov saw a tear roll down McCoy's face. "Y-you cannot leave this world without me."  
Kirk's rushed breathing had begun being interrupted with sniffs and sobs.  
"I left before I could tell you..." He tried speaking up, his words distorted through cries and voice breaks. "And I've tried. God, I've tried Bones. But I just..."  
"Tell me what?"   
McCoy didn't get an answer. At least a verbal answer. Kirk's arms threaded themselves over McCoy's shoulders and pulled him closer. Kirk didn't need to guide McCoy's forehead to his as he returned the motion. They rested their foreheads against one another and were content with their silence, it was if it was a long time coming. And it was. Chekov didn't know what to do but sit there. Blood trickled down his forehead and into his eye, he tried to blink it out, but it continued to sting. Getting up from where he sat he hurried over to the bathrooms. 

He took a breath before looking at himself in the mirror. Black had begun to spread under his eye, above his eye was swelling red. Blood smudged his face. He heard the bathroom door swing open  
"Ë moë..." he whispered again to himself as he touched where it hurt. From the door came urgent steps and a slam. Chekov jumped and turned to see Sulu skid to a halt in front of him. He looked at Chekov, wide-eyed and scared.  
"I em okay!" Chekov smiled, his head throbbing. Sulu took a few seconds to look him over although ultimately laying eyes on the wound on Chekov's forehead. He took a few steps forward, wrapping Chekov in a hug. Although not meaning too, Chekov buried his face in between Sulu's neck and shoulder. Sulu's hand was placed on the back of Chekov's neck, running his hand through his short hair.  
“I was worried." Sulu mumbled.  
"I em okay." Chekov repeated, still smiling. "I promeese."  
"Better not be lying." Sulu took a step back to take Chekov's face in hands. He looked over the cut in Chekov's forehead. "You'll need the doctor to look at this..."  
"I zink ze doctor eez a beet preoccupied at ze moment." Chekov giggled.  
"I know, I saw!" Sulu exclaimed, a smile spreading over his face. "Only took them four years."  
"Zey make a wery good team." Chekov smiled. He didn't know why he was grinning. He, his captain and the chief medical officer had been harmed on his birthday. But Chekov got to see a side of his fellow crew mates that he hadn't seen before. He didn't know Kirk could be so irresponsible. It made Chekov even more trusting in the captain. He was fantastic at his job, but he wasn't stuck up about it. McCoy was Kirk's anchor. 

Sulu looked down from the wound into Chekov's eyes for a second before looking back at the wound.  
"Does it hurt?"  
"No eet--" Sulu ran his thumb along a sensitive part of the cut and Chekov hissed and flinched, "eet eez fine."  
"Oh my I'm sorry." Sulu exclaimed, placing small kisses along Chekov's forehead. Like a child, Chekov giggled.  
"I promeese I em okay."  
Sulu nodded.  
"Let's get out of here." He took Chekov's hand. "I'm sorry your birthday ended up like this."

Kirk was sorry too. As well as McCoy. They made it very obvious that they were sorry the next day. The next week. Possibly, probably, the next year. Kirk was apologetic over and over with McCoy showing glimpses of a soft side through his apologise. He had even offered to refill Chekov’s locker, although that didn’t stop him from taking any. After that Kirk and McCoy decided their relationship was ready for the next level and asked Chekov and Sulu not to say a word. Which of course they didn't, they kept their mouths firmly shut but Kirk showing up on the bridge wearing medical blue wasn't the subtlest mistake. But Chekov answered them just like he'd answered Sulu. He had enjoyed it. After all, a little bit of excitement is good for the soul. The night was therefore known as _The Argelius Incident_ and Chekov was nothing but giggles when he thought of it.

**Author's Note:**

> Back at it again with ST fics I wrote in 2017...  
> Another huge shout out to my number one homie, my bro, I utterly adore you. Your continued support over these years is a blessing, I love you man!
> 
> (Also, I keep referring back to Kirk's death and its McKirk angst??)  
> ((Follow up also: I did actually write a full fic about the blue shirt mistake, might post that later))  
> Disclaimer: this was written pre-Ben/Sulu (which I adore).


End file.
